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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021614">in which there are unfinished essays, tired students, and conversations that should wait until morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_freefall/pseuds/sakura_freefall'>sakura_freefall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- Reincarnation, Canonical Character Death, Enjolras Needs Sleep, First Meeting, Fluff and Angst, Grantaire You Are Bad At Flirting, Historical References, Light Angst, M/M, Overworked College Student Enjolras, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sad Boi Grantaire, Sort Of, enjoltaire - Freeform, ghost au, grantaire needs love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:07:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_freefall/pseuds/sakura_freefall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras just needs to write this essay. This one essay and then he can go to sleep.</p><p>Turns out, it's not that simple. And one typo can change... well, everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in which there are unfinished essays, tired students, and conversations that should wait until morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>someone make me stop bullying the Bois.</p><p>oh well</p><p>comments/kudos welcome :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Enjolras liked Professor Lamarque. He really did. When the man had assigned them a random minor historical event to write an essay on detailing the impact of it on a larger scale, he thought it would be easy. In general, he wasn't a fan of General History as a subject- too much period-typical sexism, racism, and homophobia- but he did know that it was necessary if he wanted to take higher Civics next year.</p><p>The assignment shouldn't have been difficult. He'd been assigned the June Rebellion, something that happened in 1832, in France. There wasn't a lot on it- it seemed to be one of several uprisings that happened quite frequently during that period of French history. But that wasn't what made the assignment especially difficult.</p><p>Something about the particular event seemed strange. Almost as if it hit too close to home. Maybe it reminded him of the present day, all the political movements that ended up amounting to nothing. So here he was, sitting with a blank document on his computer, typing and backspacing words at 2:30 A.M.</p><p>
  <em>"The June Rebellion was an uprising that took place in-"</em>
</p><p>No, that sounded too much like the article opener. He didn't want to plagiarize. He rolled his eyes at the dripping noise behind him. Yes, a leaky pipe would be wonderful to wake up to tomorrow. Things were always falling apart in his dorm room.</p><p>
  <em>"The June Rebelion-"</em>
</p><p>Why couldn't he spell something right for once in his life? The floorboard creaked as he shifted his weight on the office chair.</p><p>
  <em>"In 1832, an uprising took place in Paris-"</em>
</p><p>Was it in fact Paris? He clicked back to the article and confirmed that yes, it was indeed Paris. He was slipping. He really should get some sleep, but he couldn't fail this class. Not now. He returned to the page and tried again, ignoring the sound of glass clinking from the direction of the room next door. Of course his dorm-mates would be having frat parties on a Thursday night. Why couldn't they wait until the weekend?</p><p>
  <em>"On June 4, 1832, there was a-"</em>
</p><p>"It was June fifth."</p><p>Enjolras sucked in a breath. The voice had come directly behind him. He didn't have a roommate, it was probably some freshman playing what their idea of a clever prank was. That was the only probable explanation. "Who's there?" he called, trying to sound intimidating. "Why are you in my dorm room?"</p><p>"Calm down, Apollo," came the voice again. "I'm just trying to help."</p><p>"Wh-" he blushed, confused by the sudden nickname. "Get out of my dorm or- or I'm calling security."</p><p>"Yeah, good luck with that," drawled the unknown voice. "Turn around, would you? I want to get a look at your face."</p><p>"Why the hell would I do that?!" Enjolras shouted. "I don't know who you are, or why you're here, or what you want!" </p><p>"I'm not a robber. I'm- yeah, would you turn around? I don't want to explain this." Cautiously, Enjolras looked over to where the voice came from, and saw-</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Okay. Where are you?" he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. There was no- there was no way... he must have fallen asleep. There was no such thing as-</p><p>"Look harder." Enjolras got out of his desk chair, half expecting to snap awake. But he felt reasonably clear-headed as he peered around for the location of the stranger.</p><p>There. Standing against the wall was the faint outline of a man, short and dark-haired, wearing what looked like a waistcoat. And was that- was that blood staining the front of it? He looked almost incorporeal, like he could pass through the wall at any moment. </p><p>"Who are you?"</p><p>"My name is Grantaire," he replied. "I'm sorry for... all of this."</p><p>"All of what?" Enjolras had to be dreaming. There was no other way.</p><p>"I'm impulsive, that's what. And I'm right," he said smugly, "in that the June Rebellion was on the fifth, not the fourth."</p><p>"How- why are you- how did you get into my place?"</p><p>"Apollo," he said, patronizing, "I've been here long before you. For almost two hundred years."</p><p>In that moment, he understood. "You were one of them, weren't you?"</p><p>"One of what?" Grantaire dodged the question.</p><p>"One of the rebels. The students."</p><p>"You could say that," replied Grantaire. "I wasn't the most commited of them."</p><p>"So that's how you knew the date. You- you were there."</p><p>"Yeah," he sighed. "You- you look like one of them, you know. Tall, blond... highly attractive, in my opinion," he said, smirking.</p><p>"Oh yeah? What has his name?" Was this... whatever it was trying to <em>flirt </em>with him?</p><p>"It was- it..." He lowered his head. "I don't remember." His expression fell, eyes drooping.</p><p>"Hey, it's- it's okay," Enjolras said awkwardly.</p><p>"No, no it's not! I'm- the rest of them... I'm the only one that can't..." Something almost like a sob came from Grantaire. "I just... I remember now, a little. Something..." His breath caught in his chest as he gasped. "Enjolras, I'm so sorry!"</p><p>"Wait, how do you know my name?" said Enjolras, more confused than afraid.</p><p>"You... him... you're the same! I'm so sorry! I should've tried harder, I should've done better, I'm so, so sorry!" He dropped to his knees as if pleading. Enjolras was taken aback. The man seemed to think he was his long-lost... something.</p><p>"I don't know, Grantaire. I'm not sure what you're saying."</p><p>"I was drunk! All the time! You hated me! I completely failed my mission to Barierre du Maine! It's all my fault, I'm sorry, please..."</p><p>"Whatever it was... whatever this... me did, I'm sure it wasn't your fault."</p><p>"It was. I'm sorry. I failed you and all our friends."</p><p>"Okay, I don't know what friends you're talking about. C'mon, sit down." He patted the bed in the corner. He was too tired for this. Grantaire hovered a few inches above the bed, the wall visible behind him. Enjolras, with nothing to lose, plopped down beside him. "Tell me more about... all of this."</p><p>"Well, we were... we were called Les Amis? The place we met at was called... Cafe Musain? I'm sorry, it's hard to remember."</p><p>"It's all right."</p><p>"There were nine of us, I believe. Plus another boy who tagged along sometimes, and a girl too. And a street kid. Their names..."</p><p>"Combeferre," Enjolras said. How had he known that name? Where had he heard it before?</p><p>"Yes! Combeferre. And... and Cour- Cou something?"</p><p>"Courfeyrac!" Enjolras supplied. Something else was bringing the words to the front of his tongue. "And Jehan, Joly, Bossuet, Feuilly, Bahorel, Marius, Eponine, and Gavroche!"</p><p>"Yes!" he said. "You- you do remember!"</p><p>
  <em>A million different moments. Green glass. Shouts. A building's facade. Sunlight. Dark curls. The smell of stale alcohol. New parchment. Broken wood. Cobblestone. Screams. Gunfire. Smoke. Something burning. The glint of metal on metal. Cannons. A hand in his and a smile and words in a language he didn't know. Grantaire.</em>
</p><p>"I- it's all..."</p><p>"You remeber. Apollo remembers just how much he despised me."</p><p>"Don't call me that!" Enjolras snapped. "Sorry. I just- don't, please."</p><p>"See, I told you so," responded Grantaire, resigned.</p><p>"No! I didn't mean it that way. I don't remember despising you, actually. All I remember of you is something about holding your hand."</p><p>"You permitted it," Grantaire smiled. "I didn't think you would."</p><p>"Permit... what exactly?"</p><p>"You'll remember in time," he said, cryptic. "For now... don't you have an essay to finish?"</p><p>"Yeah," he remembered. "I suppose I do." Strangely, he laughed. The essay seemed a million years ago. "Actually, I suppose you could help me with that?"</p><p>"Er... you don't remember this, but I... I may or may not have slept through the entire battle?"</p><p>"Are you kidding me."</p><p>"Actually, I'm not. I'm not going to be an endless fountain of knowledge at that front."</p><p>"But how do you sleep through an entire... wouldn't the noise keep you up?"</p><p>He shrugged. "I was drunk. I said I wasn't the most commited."</p><p>"You... oh my word. You're insane."</p><p>"I prefer the term 'uniquely prioritized'."</p><p>"Whatever," he growled, balancing between irritation and affection. "You're smarter than you gave- give yourself credit for."</p><p>"Oh, you think so? And once again I'll state that you are extremely good-looking..."</p><p>"I'm going to stop you right there," he cut in, feeling something heat up inside him. "I've known you for under a day, and you're a ghost. We can discuss, uh, that sort of stuff in the morning. Or in a week. Maybe."</p><p>"You know what? That's fair. Now either sleep or write Lamarque's damn essay."</p>
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